The man is standing, fully dressed and blindfolded in the nearly empty bed room. The only light into the room comes from the open windows that look out over the back yard of the house we are in. He is tall, tall as I am with the three inch heels, athletic build with mouse brown hair, graying in the dignified location of his temples. I walk around him, my heels clicking on the wood floor, tracing the crop along his legs, his buttocks, his back.
“Take off your shoes,” I tell the man. He bends over to untie his shoe. The crop snaps across the back pockets of his jeans. He startles. “This is the first and only time I will tell you this,” I whisper into his ear, moving close enough that he can feel my breathe on his neck and the fabric of the corset that covers my breasts against his arm. “Whenever I ask you to do something, you will answer with ‘Yes Mistress.’ Do you understand?”
“Yes Mistress,” he says in quiet tones.
“Remove your shoes,” I tell him again as I step away.
“Yes Mistress,” he responds, bending over to unlace each shoe before taking them off his feet. He does quite well for a blindfolded man. When his shoes are off he pulls at his socks. My crop finds his rear again.
“I did not tell you to remove your socks.” He stands up and waits. I move over to one of two pieces of furniture in the room – a wooden chair – and sit. He stands there, still, awaiting the next directions. “Take off all your clothes.”
“Yes Mistress.” Socks, pants, shirt and boxers all come off and lay in a pile on the floor next to him. I step over and stand behind him to remove the blindfold. He blinks his eyes several times to adjust to the light of the room.
“Pick up your clothing, FOLD… IT… NICELY… and place it against the wall,” he begins to bend over to pick up the clothing, when I believe he feels the air move behind him or at least remembers earlier directions.
“Yes Mistress,” before he can feel the crop again. I walk over to the chair, pick it up and move it to where he had been standing.
“Now sit in this chair,” I instruct him.
“Yes Mistress,” and he does as I say.
He moves to sit in the chair, then flinches as the rough wood scratches against his bare back and behind. I lay the crop on the bed, picking up the black ropes that have been laying there. The blindfold hangs from my arm. Before I tie his wrists behind the back of the chair I place the blindfold back over his eyes. What rope hangs from his wrists I attach to the back legs of the chair. Another section of rope is used to attach his right, then left leg to the corresponding front legs of the chair. With a last section of the black rope I wrap his middle to the back of the chair as well.
“You will sit and not move in that chair, “I instruct him, stepping behind and picking up the crop. “You will not speak, nor make any sound.”
“Yes Mistress.” The crop lands on his upper left thigh. He startles but does not whimper or cry out. I move toward the door. As if leaving I open and shut it. Without a sound I turn and stand next to the door.
When the door first shuts, his head perks up and turns toward the sound. Then he settles back into his seat. There is a clock in the room that I can see from where I stand. I am curious to see how long it is before he begins to squirm and become uncomfortable sitting “alone” in the room, tied to the chair and blindfolded.
For the first minute he does sit still. But shortly thereafter, he begins to fidget; wiggling his toes, stretching his fingers, moving his head as if trying to pop his neck. I watch as his almost bare chest rises and drops with sighs of boredom and frustration. Even though he is blindfolded, he often turns his head in the direction of the door, as if looking to “see” if it is opening. Barely three minutes have passed and I can tell he either desires to yell out or figure out a way to stand up while still attached to the chair.
I have had my fun. I open the door, and shut it again. He sits perfectly still. “That is a good boy,” I tell him as I move over to where he sits and run my satin covered hand across his chest and shoulder. His body responds to my touch, first pulling away at the shock of the initial feeling. Then relaxing and moving with my hand.
He has passed the first test. At least he can follow directions.
